


Theresa's Adventures

by Syntaria



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Drabbles, Ficlets, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaria/pseuds/Syntaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and short stories revolving around OC Theresa, and the pokemon she meets on her journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hige the Hoppip

Theresa held the Great Ball up above her head, eyes squinting against the light from the sun. The stream’s water felt cool against her bare feet, the breeze carrying the scent of flowers from the garden across the road. She was only about an hour away from her house, her home, the place she was desperately trying to forget. Not because of any harsh words or stinging arguments, but because it simply hurt to think about. Theresa tried not to go back, because deep inside, she knew that once she was home, safe and sound—holding her little brother, cooking with her mom, helping dad out at the shop—she knew she’d never be able to leave them again.

And as much as she wanted to do just that, she also knew that she couldn’t. She owed it to her friends, human and Pokémon alike. She started her journey, she would finish it.

She pressed the button on the Great Ball—it expanded in her hands, before popping open with a slight snapping sound. 

It was her newest Pokémon, caught less than five minutes ago. It looked at her with wide, wet eyes, and Theresa hesitated before pulling it into her arms. It didn’t fight, but it did squeal, “Hop Hop Hop-pip!”

She gave it a squirt of the Antidote, gently rubbing its head to soothe the creature, her grip firm but warm. It relaxed as the poison damage—the damage that SHE had done to it—faded. It looked at her questioningly and Theresa noted that it was a male.

“Does that feel better, Hige?”

The Hoppip smiled. Theresa’s resolve was cemented.


	2. Setsuna the Sneasel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place somewhere along Route 216 in Sinnoh

The sun shone brightly in the clear sky, its rays fairly dancing on the crisp, freshly fallen snow that lay before her. Theresa squinted against the reflected light that shone into her eyes, fighting off the headache it was giving her. She wondered worriedly to herself if she would be able to find the path again. The underbrush of the trees and the glare from the sun threw off her perception of depth, and the cold wind wasn’t helping her mood at all. She brought her gloved hands up to her mouth and blew on them; the heat reduced the stiffness in her fingers only for a few seconds before settling back in again. Rolling her eyes, Theresa shoved her hands back into the pockets of her coat and kicked at the snow that was melting against her sneakers.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself and she zipped her jacket up the few centimeters it had slipped. “All I really need to do is get back to the others. So maybe running off after a Snover wasn’t really the smartest thing to do, considering how common they are. Especially sense I didn’t even catch it, but whatever,” she sighed, her breath misting in the air around her. Internally, she was fighting between the idea of staying where she was and letting the others find her, or wandering around, possibly getting even more lost, or possibly finding her way out. She had a few hours until the sun went down, but with no guarantee of shelter or of her friend’s coming after her in the first place, the first option was bleak. 

“I really wish I had a Fire type or something,” she grumbled, kicking more snow out of her way and shivering in her shoes. She shrugged her doubts off and pushed on, afraid of staying still and more concerned with keeping the blood in her system moving. It wasn’t too cold on the mountain path, but the wind chill that would creep up every now and then made her worry about staying stationary anyway. The sweater she wore beneath her jacket bunched up at the elbows when she raised a hand to brush some snow off of her head, wishing she’d remembered her earmuffs and lifting the sweater’s hood instead. “It would make walking a lot easier…if not wetter, but there are some sacrifices one should be willing to make. Oh, but then the water would probably freeze and I’d have to deal with walking on ice…”

Talking to herself eventually proved even more annoying than the silence, and Theresa sighed to herself one last time. “I guess I’m just not meant to have any…” she trailed off at the sight before her. A Sneasel had been training a few yards ahead, evidently slashing at the tree that bore scars of countless slash attacks. Now the Pokémon eyed Theresa warily, a challenging glint shining in its eyes. Theresa could hardly believe her luck; usually when she came across wild Pokémon they ran off, like the Snover that had gotten her into this situation to begin with. Cautiously, she took another step forward, the snow crunching underneath her feat. The Sneasel didn’t back down, rather, it took a step forward itself as it issued a cry.

“Snea!”

Theresa weighed her options. Sneasel was a Dark and Ice type, so using Akito, her Kadabra, was out of the question. Braig the Venasuar and Hilde the Dodrio would be useless against any of its ice attacks, and Maria and Tony, respectively a Nidorina and Nidorino, were too close to fainting for her to use in a battle. She bit the inside of her cheek in annoyance when she realized that Makoto was her only able-bodied Pokémon with any sort type advantage, as she was a Fighting type. The problem was that Makoto was temperamental and currently sulking, angry with Theresa for cutting off her enthusiastic snowball fight with the rather unwilling Hilde only the day before. Theresa sighed to herself, unclipping Makoto’s pokéball from its place along her belt anyway. It was better to try, for she knew that she would regret it otherwise; her mother was always hounding her to make more friends, after all. ‘Though I don’t think she meant Pokémon,’ Theresa thought to herself as she threw the ball into the air.

Makoto, her Mankey, materialized in an instant and proceeded to eye Theresa with a bit of a sulk. But when she spotted the Sneasel, Makoto was all business, narrowing her eyes and smirking at her opponent. The Sneasel responded in turn, and they both let out challenging cries; if Makoto was put off by the marks upon the tree behind the wild Sneasel, she didn’t show it. Theresa didn’t know whether to be proud of her Mankey’s strength of character or worried about her overconfidence. Regardless, she called out, “Makoto, let’s see your Low Kick!”

The fight progressed; the Sneasel gave as well as it got. It was fast, avoiding quite a few of Makoto’s attacks, but its weakness to Makoto’s fighting attacks took their toll. The wild one managed to get in a Faint Attack before tripping up, leaving itself wide open for a Karate Chop. Theresa bit her lip as it staggered back, willing to go on but clearly defeated. “Makoto,” she called, ready to go all the way, reaching for a spare pokéball to toss…only to stop. Her eyes wide and disbelieving, Theresa shook her head and fought back the tears that had suddenly sprung forth. “Makoto,” she called out again, a slight waver in her voice that caused both Pokémon to pause, “return.” She raised the pokéball and Makoto looked at her quizzically, worriedly, as she was called back. The wild Sneasel lowered its arms and looked at Theresa with confusion, but there was still a guarded defiance in its eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Theresa bowed, a hot tear sliding its way down her cold cheek. “This is pathetic, but you see,” she raised her head and stared at the Sneasel, apologetic, “I don’t have any spare pokéballs of any variety. So it’s impossible to catch you.” It glared at her, kicked at the snow, snorted as if it didn’t believe her. “I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Theresa kneeled down in the cold, cold snow, her hand outstretched. In it she held a single Potion. “It’s all I have left, and it’s my fault that you’re hurt now. It would suck for some other trainer to come along and catch you while you were recovering or something…”

The Sneasel looked at her, looked at the Potion, and shook its head. “Snease, sneasel, snee,” it pushed itself up, nodding toward its tree and beyond. Theresa, confused, looked. The path she’d lost earlier was there, the tracks of her friends marring the freshly fallen snow. Theresa’s eyes widened as she felt something brush up against her leg, only to look down and see the Sneasel pushing her. “Sneasel,” it nodded one last time, looking up at her and starting to walk after the footprints.

“Does this mean…?” Theresa asked after walking a few minutes in silence. The Sneasel simply nodded.

Theresa grinned, quickly knelt down, and scooped the Pokémon up into her arms. It let out a surprised cry but did not fight, even as she hugged it and twirled around in the snow. 

“Thank you, Setsuna!”


	3. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theresa visits an old companion.

“It's not that I don't care about the berries,” Theresa intoned from where she lay next to the stream. She kept an eye on her low level Surskit as she spoke, as the little one had a very aggressive temperament and almost no restraint. Thankfully, as it danced around the water, fighting against the current with a determined glint in its eye, she couldn't see any trouble it might get into. “I know how important they are for wild Pokemon, so when I pick any, I make sure to plant some more. And all the Pokemon who've come with me have always preferred Oran Berries to Potions, so believe me, I get why trainers like them. I just don't really get why you enjoy...harvesting them.”

Sara raised her eyebrows, turning away from the plot of dirt she had been focused on. There were streaks of soil on her forehead from where she had absentmindedly swept aside her bangs, which were prone to falling in front of her face when she worked. She settled her spade between herself and her companion, a crafty little Kecleon who enjoyed nothing more than hiding her belongings. When it quickly tried to grab the tool, Sara almost instinctively placed a hand on its head, enticing it to stay by her side instead of hiding the spade in the bushes.

“It's not harvesting, really. I just like making sure I have plenty on me.”

“You have so much with you that you don't even need help from your Shuckle, your bag makes its own berry juice. Just with more lint,” Theresa wrinkled her noise, indicating the numerous stains on Sara's backpack. They'd both lost count of how many times the bag had been dropped at the berries inside were squished by the impact, their plastic containers never sturdy enough for the impact—or perhaps just too full, was Theresa's thoughts.

“And all my Pokemon are grateful for it whenever they'd like a little snack. Besides,” Sara smiled cheerfully, planting a few Persim Berries into the hole she'd dug, carefully mixing the soil with mulch as she covered them again, “it's a lot cheaper than having to go the PokeMart every time I head into town.”

Theresa hummed absently, most of her attention attention turning back onto her Surskit. A curious Shellos has poked its head up a little further upstream, and that seemed to be what Surskit was aiming for. The two appeared to be playing some sort of game, the Shellos popping up further away, then closer, almost taunting the lower level water skipper. Pushing herself into a sitting position, Theresa scratched at her cheek and asked, “Did you ever think about selling them?”

It was Sara's turn to wrinkle her nose, her Kecleon trying to imitate the expression. Mostly it just sort of crossed its eyes, before picking out the Wailer Pail in Sara's bag and running towards the stream. “Why would I ever sell my berries?”

“Well,” Theresa started, lifting one of her hands to start ticking off her points, “for one thing, it's not like you battle other trainers, so selling some of your berries would be a good way to make money. For another thing, you legitimately carry hundreds of berries in your pockets on any given day, so it's not like you'd miss them.”

“I don't need the money,” Sara muttered, standing and quickly moving to help Kecleon as it nearly fell into the stream in its haste. In its surprise, the pail seemed to be floating over the stream, safe for the red stripe that gave away its position. Sara tsked, picking both Pokemon and pail up, “and I carry them for a reason. And why should I charge people for something they can get for free anyway?”

“I'm not saying you should charge them,” Theresa shrugged, slipping her shoes off and tugging at her socks. “I'm saying that you could if you wanted to. Just cause people can get stuff for free doesn't mean they won't pay for it instead of doing the work themselves.”

“Such a shop-keepers daughter,” Sara sighed, but there was a smile on her lips. She sprinkled some of the water over the row of berries she'd just planted, laughing when her Kecleon stuck its tongue out to steal some of the water. Theresa turned and flashed them both a grin.

“I am, aren't I?” she boasted, rolling the legs of her jeans up before jumping into the stream. Her Surskit flicked the excess water she'd splashed onto it off it's body, and the curious Shellos sank away from vision. Her Pokemon turned a halfheartedly glare at her, to which Theresa only smiled back, plucking them into her arms. “Don't be such a brat, Maggie,” she admonished, splashing around as the Surskit wriggled in her arms. In response to her words, the Surskit blew a stream of bubbles at her trainer's face, which popped on impact.

Sara started to laugh as Theresa shrieked playfully, the attack not strong enough to do more than sting slightly, but it looked like it was a stronger sting than before—the little game the two Pokemon had been playing was a good exercise. She turned her attention back to Kecleon, who was using its Slash attack to prune some of the dead branches from another plant. She watched as he collected these branches, grasping two of the thickest and walking back to her. “Keck!” he smiled, offering one to her.

“Huh,” Theresa's voice sounded almost directly behind her, and Sara jumped just slightly. Maggie the Surskit was resting on top of Theresa's head, looking just as curious as her trainer did. “I thought only Farfetch'd collected sticks.”

Sara rolled her eyes, “Farfetch'd collects leaks. Kecleon,” she took the branch and inclined her head just so; her partner bowed his head in return, then held the stick up in a sketchy imitation of a sword. “Kecleon just likes to play,” she finished, giggling and meeting him strike for strike, their sticks making dull noises when they hit, but Kecleon was relishing the fight, jumping back and forward, side to side. “It helps keep his speed up, and it's fun.”

Theresa blinked, plucking Maggie off her head and back into her arms, where it squirmed half-heartedly before resting against her chest. “You're an odd Ducklett, you know that Sara?”

Sara hummed, but said nothing more in return. Theresa didn't expect her to, simply walking back over to her abandoned shoes, socks and backpack. She reached down one handed for her Lure Ball, calling Maggie back in to rest, before clipping it safely back to her belt. As her other companion played, she tugged her shoes back on and pulled her map out of her bag's front pocket. Sara's home and garden was only about two hours away from Eterna City, where Theresa was headed before she stopped in for a visit. It wasn't often that she saw the other trainer, not since Sara had announced that she was retiring from travelling and indeed the entire trainer lifestyle. She hadn't turned in her Pokedex, so she was still registered, but she had released most of her Pokemon to their group of friends, who liked to battle, and to a daycare that specialized in raising playmates for preschoolers. Although the entire friend group had drifted in their travels, it was Sara whom Theresa missed the most, and would always take time to visit when she was in the area.

“Are you sure you don't want to come with me?” Theresa asked, half teasing, half hoping. 

Sara shook her head, scooping Kecleon up into her arms. He scurried up to stand on her shoulder, and she stood sort of crookedly to make sure he kept his balance. “I'm happy here,” Sara smiled, accepting her odd stance with the grace of somebody who made many sacrifices for their Pokemon. “I wasn't happy travelling. It was fun, sure, but...I missed have a place to come home to. And besides, battling was never for me.”

“You could always do the contests. With all those berries of yours, making Pokeblocks would be a synch.”

“Nope,” she responded cheerfully—it was a pseudo argument that they'd had many times before, and would likely have many times after. “I like to grow things. I like making friends with the people who drop in, I like handing out berries to people who need a little help, and I like just being able to relax and entertain my friends.” She half shrugged her shoulder and Kecleon gave a little cry of amusement as his world shook, but he held steady to her. “My little rest stop is my whole world, I don't need to see the rest of it.”

Theresa smiled and shook her head. “I'll never understand it,” she responded. “I miss home, sure—but I get restless there after too long. It's like I'm looking for something. I don't know what, but it's a lot of fun looking.” She toed the ground, smiling shyly, one hand coming up to tap a tune out on the pokeballs that lined her belt. 

Sara smiled softly, “I really hope you find it one day. We're always here in the meantime, though.” Kecleon cried his approval, waving one hand energetically.

Theresa curled her fingers in a returning wave, dithering over goodbyes. They were always the hardest. But when Sara held up a bundle of berries, she couldn't help but laugh. “Thank you,” Theresa grinned, taking the Aspear and Oran collection. “A lot cheaper than potions and ice heals. Sure you don't want any money?” she joked, winking. 

Sara rolled her eyes, smiling, and started to shove her towards the road. “Go,” she insisted. “Go reek havoc on other trainers, splurge your well earned battle money on whatever it is you buy, and don't forget to send a note every once in a while.”

Getting on her bike, Theresa looked back over her shoulder, waving and laughing when Kecleon waved so enthusiastically in return that he toppled off Sara's shoulder; Sara quickly caught him. As There peddled her way out of the clearing, past the grove of trees and back out onto Route 205, Theresa started to hum the same song that Sara had. Her human friends had all drifted away on their travels, and Theresa would never begrudge them following their own passions. Heero had stayed behind to train as an apprentice at one of the local gyms, striving to be recognized by the League; Paulina had flown out to Kalos to try her hand at being in movies. Theresa, it seemed, was the only one still travelling. She smiled to herself, peddling faster; it was all okay. Even if she never found what she was looking for, so long as she had her Pokemon, everything would be okay.


End file.
